


The Best Part of the Fight

by mtowntimeagent



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Fights, M/M, Makeup Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Prostate Massage, Red Pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtowntimeagent/pseuds/mtowntimeagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have had a fight. A big one. So when Sherlock finally returns to the flat, John apologizes and make-up sex ensues. It's pretty much PWP with over-stimulated John. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Part of the Fight

    The words echoed loud in John’s ears. His own words.   
  
_“Piss off! I fucking hate you! Don’t you ever come back!”_  
  
    He hadn’t meant them, of course. But he thought he had at the moment, and before he had taken a second to realize just what he was saying, the words had poured from his mouth and left a very hurt looking Sherlock in their place.  
  
    To John Watson, there was nothing worse in the world than seeing that look on Sherlock’s normally composed face. The look that said ‘you really hurt me this time’. So Sherlock had been gone for two days, and John couldn’t even bring himself to leave the house. He just wanted his boyfriend back. Although, he supposed that Sherlock wasn’t _really_ his boyfriend anymore. He sighed at that thought as well.  
  
    The argument had been over something stupid. Well, it had _started_ over something stupid. Then they just began throwing all the usual things at each other ‘You’re a machine’. ‘You can’t even admit you’re gay.’ ‘I’m not gay!’ ‘Then I guess I’m nothing then?’ ‘You might as well be. You never pay me any mind’ and so on and so on. No one realized that John and Sherlock’s fights, while verbal, hurt more than any physical fight either of them had ever been in. Because they each knew the others pressure points and, like clockwork, would hit them to hurt each other. But this was worse. Sherlock had actually _left_.  
  
    So when the door opened, John jumped from his seat and ran to it as fast as he could. Sherlock was standing there, looking sad and broken like a puppy passed over at the pound every time. John ran into his arms.   
  
    “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he murmured. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean it. You’re not a machine.” he pulled away and was met with Sherlock’s lips pressing roughly against his. That, for Sherlock, was the sign of forgiveness. He didn’t have to say it. John already knew. John was the vocal one. He would beg forgiveness until the cows came home. But Sherlock would take action and show him. Once, he actually bought John flowers.   
  
    Sherlock leaned into the kiss, leading John back towards the sofa, and both of them knew what would happen next. This was how their make-ups always ended. Not that either of them was complaining.  
  
    “God, I missed you.” John murmured as Sherlock’s lips trailed down his neck. “I couldn’t sleep without you next to me.” he shook his head. “I just needed to fee- _ah_.” he groaned and his back arched as Sherlock’s fingers twisted gently around one nipple through his shirt.. “That’s good.” he groaned, feeling his cock start to twitch in anticipation. Sherlock couldn’t hide the satisfied smirk at John’s reaction. Even after months of being together, the detective was still pleased when he was able to elicit those sounds from John.  
  
    “I missed you too.” He said simply. There were no broad professions following. Typical Sherlock style, he got to the point and skipped all the pleasantries. John didn’t need to know that he had spent half of the first day considering using again. He didn’t need to know that. All John needed to know was that Sherlock missed him and loved him. “I love you.” he added when he realized his lack of the words since he had been home.  
  
    “I love you too.” John whispered and pulled his shirt over his head, laying back on the sofa. “I love you so much. I wish I could just...” he sighed when he came up with anything he felt properly expressed his love. Sherlock’s head dipped down and pulled John’s nipple into his mouth, drawing a deep, low moan from the doctor. “Fuck!” he groaned his head lulling back on the pillow. “You know my nipples are sensitive.” he licked his lips slowly.  
  
    “Precisely.” Sherlock smiled up at him, and John felt himself melt. That was a smile that was reserved for him and him only. No one else saw that smile but John. Sherlock’s tongue worked at the small bud as his hands deftly removed John’s trousers, pushing them down to hang off the edge of the sofa. Sherlock let out an honest-to-goodness sigh of pleasure. “It’s monday.” he grinned against John’s skin. A flush covered the doctor’s cheeks.  
  
    “I forgot about those.” he said, looking down at the bright red pants that covered the prominent bulge beneath. He knew how much Sherlock loved his red pants. He had thought about that when he put them on this morning, but he had no idea that Sherlock would actually be seeing them today.  
  
    “I’m glad you have them on.” Sherlock moved slowly down, kissing each inch of skin as he went. John let out a whine of protest.  
  
    “Oi. You’re still completely clothed. Can we fix that?” He questioned. Sherlock smirked and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. It was funny how quickly one can learn to unbutton a shirt. John and Sherlock both had this skill mastered. When the younger man’s skin appeared, John let out a sigh of relief. “God, you’re still gorgeous.” he sighed.  
  
    “I haven’t changed that much in two days, John.” Sherlock muttered with a soft blush. John sighed.  
  
    “I know, but it felt like ages.” He told him quietly. Sherlock nodded slowly in agreement. It had felt like ages to him too. He quickly shook off the feeling, however, and pushed off his trousers and went ahead in slipping his pants off as well. He moved back down on John’s body and began to kiss the bulge in John’s red pants.  
  
    “I like when you get like this.” Sherlock admitted. “When you want me.” his voice was deep and rough. A change to the words he had spoken just seconds before. John knew he was in for something extreme. He bit his lip and nodded. Sherlock’s mouth opened wide and he began to move it along the now defined erection. John’s back arched a bit.   
  
    “Don’t tease.” He groaned. “I can’t take you teasing me right now.” Sherlock smirked at those words and his hand slipped into the couch cushion and pulled out the lube they kept hidden there. Sherlock often liked to do filthy things to John on this sofa, so they kept a bottle of lube in between the first cushion and the arm of the couch. It had taken Mrs. Hudson three times of finding it to realize that it wasn’t there by mistake.  
  
    “I have plans for you, John Watson.” Sherlock purred, pushing the back of the pants to the side and sliding one slicked finger inside of the doctor’s puckered entrance. John let out a low groan. “Big plans.” John shuddered at this. Sherlock was so unusually secretive about what they would do during sex. There had only been one time that John had told him to stop. They didn’t talk about that, and Sherlock never did it again.   
  


After a few minutes, Sherlock had added a second finger, and John was getting impatient. His cock was still sheathed in red pants and Sherlock was moving his fingers slowly. When the crook of the detective’s fingers brushed John’s prostate, a large wet spot appeared on John’s red pants and a moan ripped from his chest. Sherlock let out a low moan of his own.

 

“Have I ever told you how much I love pre-come?” he questioned. John was still recovering from the feeling of Sherlock massaging his prostate. He shook his head no. Sherlock sighed. “I think it’s wonderful. It’s your body’s way of telling me how much it likes what I’m doing.” he smirked. Soon after that, he added a third finger and John let out a low hiss. That was always his least favorite part.

 

“Please...” he whimpered. “Touch me, please, Sherlock.” he begged. Sherlock smirked and nodded. He reached up with his free hand and pulled down the elastic band of John’s pants, revealing a very hard and waiting cock. He smirked at the string of precome that stretched from the pants to John’s cock and he leaned down, lapping it up. John let out a moan and bucked up towards Sherlock’s mouth. The detective clearly did not approve and his hand went to John’s hip bone, holding him down. “God, Sherlock, _please_.” He groaned. “I need it.” He told him, his cock giving a throb of agreement.

    “Stay still.” Sherlock told him firmly as he leaned down, taking John’s cock into his mouth. The doctor let out a gasp that quickly turned into a moan. “Oh, fuck, that’s- _yes_.” he moaned. Sherlock began to bob quickly. Quicker than usual. Typically, the detective tried to drag out the process. Make John wait. But he was going so quickly now. John didn’t much mind as his head lulled and his eyes rolled back in his head.  
  
    “Sher-Fuck, Sherlock. I can’t...” he gasped, and with that, he was done. He was coming and his eyes were squeezed shut, stars behind them. He moaned low in his throat and he twitched and thrashed around a bit as Sherlock’s mouth kept moving. When the detective popped off, John sighed happily. “Mmm. Sherlock, that was lovel-what are you doing?” He questioned, his eyes wide as Sherlock pulled the red pants down all the way and began to line up at John’s entrance.  
  
    “Isn’t it clear? I’m going to fuck you.” Sherlock said, his head tilted to the side like a dog who didn’t quite understand.   
  
    “But, I just...Why don’t you just let me suck you off?” He questioned, feeling a bit nervous about how it would feel after he had already come. Sherlock shook his head.  
  
    “No, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” he smirked and slowly pushed in, garnering a gasp and a groan from the doctor. John had been stretched enough, so it wasn’t painful, but it was...different. He groaned as Sherlock pushed deep inside him, stretching him a bit more. Sherlock’s head fell down, his chin hitting his chest.   
  


“John.” He breathed out. “Good. So good.” he murmured, pushing in deeper. One leg was knelt on the couch and the other foot was placed firmly on the floor. John’s one foot dangled off the sofa and the other was hooked over the back. They had had quite a bit of practice with this one. But then Sherlock did something that he did not expect. Sherlock angled up and pulled out before slamming in against his prostate.

 

“FUCK!” John screamed out, his whole body shooting with a pleasure/pain he had never experienced. It felt so good, but it was too much all at the same time. “Oh God. Sherlock. I c-can’t. It’s too mu- _OH_!” he gasped out as Sherlock once again slammed into him. John’s head was swimming as Sherlock reached down and began to stroke John’s flaccid member. John shook his head. “Sherlock, I _can’t_!” he told him, yet the detective didn’t stop. He was letting out low grunts and moans that were almost animalistic, and damned if John didn’t love that sound. Sherlock began to thumb over the sensitive head and John was fairly certain that his whole body was going to implode. “That’s too m-m-much, Sherlock. Too m-much.” he groaned, but made no effort to actually stop what Sherlock was doing.

  
    “I’m not going to last much longer.” he informed the doctor. “But we’re almost there.” he told him. We? John wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. Sherlock wasn’t even pulling out any longer, he was just rocking in quick slow movements that were sending slow pulses of the toomuchnotenough feeling that John was getting. It didn’t take long for the doctor to realize that Sherlock was repeatedly brushing over his over-stimulated prostate.  
  
    “Sh-Sherlock. I can’t. Please. O-Oh god.” He was babbling like an insane person, his body shaking and his fingers scratching at every available surface. “Please. T-Too much. Oh please. Please, Sh-Sher-Sherlock I c-can’t.” He whimpered and moaned as Sherlock pulled away from his prostate and then all at once he slammed back in and John’s whole body rocked with waves of a dry, over-stimulated orgasm, his eyes watering with tears and his body shaking as a moan ripped from his throat and through all of 221B. With this, Sherlock couldn’t hold back any longer and let go of his own orgasm, moaning into John’s chest as his cock quickly spilled all it had inside his lover.  
  
    They stayed like this, silent, sweaty and tangled on the sofa for a few minutes before Sherlock slowly pulled out, eliciting a groan of displeasure from both parties. Sherlock shifted John on the sofa and pulled him into his arms, kissing the top of his head.   
  
    There were no other words said for the next hour as they just laid there on the sofa together. There wasn’t much to say. The fight was over, and they still loved each other. Even though Sherlock hadn’t said he was sorry, or even that he had forgiven John, they both knew. This was their arrangement. Sherlock didn’t have to be vocal for John to know how he felt. It was all part of the game.


End file.
